Strange That You Were Strong Enough
by CryBurnLie
Summary: [Carl, Sophia, Louis, Eliza, OC] Do you remember that time when we first met? You were lost in the dark blur of the forest and surrounded by frightening sounds. When I found you, you thought me a ghost, but spoke to me anyway. I picked you up, and your friends, and ran towards imaginary safety leaving bread crumbs for your family. You were so tired. So I became your strength.


**Strange That You Were Strong Enough**

A Walking Dead Fanfiction

Chapter 01

|V|

 _Hello! This fanfic is for all the readers who enjoy Gamer fics, and have ultimately read 'all of them' and want some more—but in a different way._

 _This Fanfic is about a Gamer, but leveling up is very different, but it's also scaled down to fit the universe._

 _Please enjoy._

V _|  
All Masterys are created by the website: /fatecore/skills-stunts _

|V| 

_| All your Stats and levels have been cleared and replaced with your host's current starting stats. |_

He wakes up on the floor.

Dust bunnies blow back from his soft breath as his eyes, blurry and rough with flakes of sleep, take in the ground that rested his head like a camera coming into focus. With the companion of an ache all throughout his body, the bones in his neck begin to creak from a long stillness as he picks his head off the floor.

A small burst of headache comes and goes.

A thick rope swings down in front of his vision, jarred away from its lain place to slide to a stop underneath his body. He feels the rope's presence around his neck as it slides. Itchy and rough. The ends are splayed like the hairs on a hog's back, broken from an intense pressure.

When he sits up on his knees, a hand grasping the rope around his neck in muddy confusion, he notices immediately that his hands are very small and dainty. They're wholly unlike his previous bigger, rugged, kind that held too many scars and nicks, or his other set of hands that were larger, but careful in their strength.

He missed those days already.

Memories passing before his eyes like phantoms, he takes the rope off of his neck and looks up and behind him to comes face to face with two hanging corpses.

His breath stops, heart skipping a beat as he is caught between distorted consciousness and waking.

Then there is fear.

The boy scrambles away from the area, jagged breaths ripping from him as he cranes his neck side to side for any telling sounds of life in the house. Searching.

But there is only the encompassing silence and the chirps of birds that filter through a window somewhere nearby. A creak of wooden planks adjusting as the house shifted and groaned. The house is empty and he is alone.

He's voiceless, twitchy to the sounds of nature that erupt every so few seconds, before he breathes out, the air shuttering, and drops the noose to the floor, glad to be rid of it. The image of the scare just behind him bounces inside of his mind. There is no desire to look up at them, the corpses, and so he sits on the floor with his back to them, his hands folding into themselves and his eyes flicking to the noose inches from his spot and flitting away again.

This was not the first time he's seen such a thing. He has lived in troubled areas near all his life. Where water can be rancid and never clean enough, hued green by polluted algae, dogs and cats eating anything to feed their skeletal features—even each other—and humans, while sticking together to help their neighbors, were never adverse to the idea of giving up their lives if there was nothing else you could do. And that was a very real outcome.

He has seen lives shattered by broken bones and broken bodies. Elders unable to keep hauling heavy stones onto larger-than-life hills, children unable to stay in school, for fear of having nothing on the table for supper, and mothers slaving away to bring nurishment to them.

In this memory, he knows he used to be apart of this, at one point, and so that is why this is so very sad, instead of horrifying. Perhaps, if he hadn't grown up acknowledging death for the option that it was he would be more horrified.

But he is not.

Hesitantly fiddling with his white knuckled hands, stricken but breathing steadily as time ticks with the growing shadows, he understands he can't just leave them like that. He was once a part of this family, in body, and it would terrorize him if he didn't attempt to bury them and give them the peace they deserve. For whatever reasons they would have had in order to do this, the pain and heartache must have been worth it.

But this was out of his hands. The only way to truly help these people is to call the police and notify them. Judging by the pictures on the wall, this house is located in a fairly urban Western environment, not at all like the places his memory can recall.

 _Ding~_

A sound, so very familiar, erupts into the silence, and before he even looks at whatever the gray, huddled, box in front of his face says, he knows what it will contain.

 _| Quest Alert |_

First Encounter

 _Find the phone: 0/1_

 _?_

The unsaid portion gives him pause, if for a moment, as he can't think of anything that may come of this that he couldn't already guess would happen. Confused, but not willing to stay idle, he leaves the noose behind as he moves away from the living room, the light patter of his feet eating up the silence and placing his presence.

There is a distinct lack of grace in his movement as he bumbles about the hallway. The strangeness of the boy's height and body confusing his senses just like a toddler would be confused by theirs before learning to crawl. A pale painted door with soft colors catches his attention, hidden away in the deep shadows of the western style corridor. The door is ajar, and he catches sight of a bathtub and a parted shower curtain. It is evidence enough to tell it is a bathroom, and in better condition than he has ever seen. Ever had the pleasure of owning.

He stops, eyes consuming the possibilities that lie inside. The boy understands that there is a task that must be done, and how important it is, but the desire blooms in his chest. A habit that has long been forged. There is a must and a want going in different directions from this path.

The boy picks the want.

Pacing his way to the bathroom with a hand on the wall for his troubles, he creeps inside and finds himself captured by the colors in the mirror's reflection.

Unlike the pale milk colored walls of the bathroom, his skin contrasted with a light sanded color, and notes one side of his hair is matted and sticking up in uncomfortable angles. He was indeed as small as he'd thought. His posture was held straight at 5'6 with no slouch, and his thin, long fingers were covered in healed callouses. He held them up to his face in curious wonder and slight enchantment, staring at his reflection with no sense of familiarity.

His hair, lavish in color, was a rich brown hue like that of milk chocolate, and his eyes shone a youthful light blue. Even when his eyes usually reflected his true, analyzing, gaze, they were subdued by the boy's hopeful gleam, like with enough love and effort everything would be okay.

He was young, but not a child. Not this time.

He didn't know what to make of the sight. Never before had he laid eyes on such a delicate face and structure. The world was never so kind for anything else than broad and chiseled chins, dark sun-burnt skin, grizzly beards, and scars and wounds littered over faces and arms...

Backing up away from the mirror, he let his eyes take in the boy's features with a hint of guilt before leaving out the bathroom door, clicking it shut behind him like a message to the world.

He steps down the hallway and finds the dining room with large inviting windows. The breeze slides through the frames and makes their curtains flutter softly. Moving over with gentle interest, he placed his hands on the windowsill and stares out, his brown locks twisting away from his face as the wind blows softly inside.

Outside was an arching view of a dried up field. This family's property was covered in small mounds with little creaks at the bottom to catch excess water and flow that to other parts of the farm. Or so, it could of been.

It would have looked lovely this time of year, if the temperature outside is anything to go by, but the hay is a dead color, and lays flat against the earth like the combed, greasy, hair of an old man. There's no familiarity of the area arising inside of him. No memories of a little boy and the field, or the shenanigans that could have ensued cloaked by tall hay pastures.

It's a quiet land with a quiet house, and there are no memories. This does not surprise him.

Finding that he should move on and finally start what he somberly promised, he realized that the only place to find a phone is either in the kitchen or the dining area, and because he had not seen a phone holder in the dining area, he opted for the first option and entered the kitchen.

The table and counters lay bare—put away and clean. There is nothing but utensils on the counters, though most homes would have chip bags littering them, or bundles of bread and such. The kitchen, from a glance, looks empty.

He found the phone attached to the wall above the counter, a swirling cord keeping the phone and the rotary dial together. Surprised and intrigued by the updated model, he hesitantly picks it up and places it to his ear.

There is nothing. No static or beep, as he had come to expect in his faded memories. But there was truly silence. He took it off his ear, a confused tilt to his head, and put it back on its stand.

 _Ding~_

 _| Quest Continuation |_

First Encounter

 _Find the phone: 1/1_

 _?_

A puzzled expression pulled down his lips as he took in the question marks. So... he wasn't done yet, but the quest says there is only one phone in the house... The boy stands there, unknowing of what to do. He doesn't extensively know how to work a phone, maybe that was the problem? Perhaps he should go and visit the neighbors...?

A low groan echoed softly off the walls like the wind wheezing, and he turns towards it in a flash, wide eyes staring down where the nose came from. The sound, so very human, had come from the living room.

But that was impossible.

He took back to the living room in a graceless hurdle, expecting a miracle as he poked his head around the corner with his hands on the wall to support the abrupt stop. But his spirit fell apart at what he saw, and in turn replaced his hope with frightening alarm.

The father was holding onto the dead wife's arm and was... eating... it. Both their bodies still dangling with the ropes tight around their necks. Sickening sounds filled up the silence with a menace. Tearing, ripping, sounds and the pitter patter of blood dripping on the wooden floor.

His mouth was agape, horror stricken by an act he had never seen before, only heard in stories. But he couldn't look away. It was supposed to be dead, he knew it had to be. Being restrained like that to the throat—never mind _when_ they did the deed, when he was looking around the house that was plenty of time to suffocate to death, given if they'd _just_ hung themselves when his body had fallen to the ground, and if he'd awoken immediately after.

But the way the man was acting... the boy took in the way the man's head jerked like broken clockwork, snarling with loud crunching noises and large, strenuous, bites. Ravenous. There no regard for the woman in this man's actions. He couldn't even see any color in their eyes, but he was too far away for that to be a concise fact.

Was this a man at all?

 _Ding~_

 _| Quest Continuation |_

First Encounter

 _Find the phone: 1/1_

 _Kill the monster: 0/1_

 _?_

He put his hands over his mouth, staring at the information in front of his face as he pulled away to hide.

Laying his back up against the wall, his heart shivering along with his body, a very ominous creek whispered into the air and he straightened up. He didn't have to look to know that the rope was beginning to strain from the dead man's movement. He was familiar with the sound. Using the information from the one that was wrapped around his own neck in the beginning, he knew that this kind of rope was old, and will be susceptible to snapping if pulled enough times.

One way or another, that monster—this boy's past father—will be breaking free soon.

He isn't prepared.

But the game system does not care.

 _| Time Left till the Monster Breaks free: 30 seconds... 29 seconds ... 2- |_

He throws himself up off the ground, his mind racing as to think of what to do. Then, as he feels his hands curl, tightening around a faint memory that had ingrained habits in unconscious dreams and wakings. He knew what he had to look for, but it would be an incredibly daring plan, especially with this new body.

 _| Time Left till the Monster Breaks free: 24 seconds... 23 seconds- |_

There was no time to ponder.

The boy dove into the kitchen, pulling out a serrated blade from the wooden knife block. He measured its weight in his hands, listening to the creeks of the rope in the background with a heavily beating heart. Was there anyway to take advantage of its hanging position?

The knife felt heavy in his hands.

 _| Time Left till the Monster Breaks free: 18 seconds... 17 seconds... |_

Hustling back to the entrance of the living room, he peeked his head out to catch the man, still dangling, still eating in ravenous sounds, and the rope creaking, whining.

The man breathed blood and showered in the spittle dyed a dark red that dripped from their lips.

Positioning the knife in his dominant hand, the boy breathes in and mentally prepares himself. He turns the corner, and is instantly spotted.

The dead man drops the arm, letting it smack against the woman's body, the blood beginning to flow down in small, dead, trickles, down the woman's forearm, and was reaching out with both arms towards him, mouth wide, snapping, and wheezing with horrible animalist snarls.

Keeping the knife in front of his body, a purely defensive position, the boy readies his stance, preparing himself for when the monster is let go, because that is no man.

 _| Time Left till the Monster Breaks free: 2 seconds... 1 second... 0 seconds |_

 _Snap._ The monster's violent efforts caused the rope to groan and break like a red vines candy ripped in two by a child. He could only watch with trepidation as the monster fell down harshly onto their face, stumbling and paralysed for a moment. The sound of the cartilage in their nose breaking is a quick, disgusting, squelch of noise, before the room is filled with a muffled groan.

| _Monster stunned: 1 second… 0 seconds |_

The boy's hands are locked in formation, stilled from the surprise but twitchy. He should have gone for that staggered event. Gotten them while they were down. But now it is too late, and so he must fight fairly.

(what was "fairly" when he is half the size, and holds a toothpick in a shaky grip).

With creeks of rugged bones, the monster, who looked so closely of that of an ordinary man but so distinctly animalistic, started to pick himself up like Frankenstein, one drop of blood dropping from their nostrils as they hunch, face downcast and out of view. Their phlegm filled hacks of breath turned the boy's stomach into knots.

He didn't want to connect their gazes.

But, with a raspy breath from deep inside of the monster's lungs, as if it was capable of spraying the monstrous blood from within them, the monstrosity twists his head like clockwork and connects their gaze, their head tipped to the side like it was too heavy to pick up. The rope burns on the man's throat are bright, and some parts of his neck was even _open_ to show his veins that shivered with their breath. But there was no gushing blood, just empty holes. No pulse to make the blood flow.

He couldn't tear his gaze away from the monster. There was so much _wrong_ with this image that he couldn't move. The tendons in his legs tensed and relaxed, ready to move, to run, but towards his quest, or for escape, the thought fought inside of his head. For a moment, he glanced at his knife and didn't know if this would be enough to kill it.

As if time had finally picked itself up, the man opened his mouth disproportionately wide and _screeched,_ a shrill, banshee like, cry speckled with snot and spit, launching its body at him with careless speed.

Startled and shaken up from the animistic cry and direct approach, the boy had barely any time to dodge, though it was more of a pathetic trip to one side as his defensive stance evaporated. Snatching back his arms before the monster could grab him, he pulled them close to his chest as his eyes widened with terror. The ferocious speed of the monster had left him breathless.

Beckoned by his vulnerability, **[Gamer's Mind]** flicked on to full strength and instantly his fear is eradicated. His mind became an analytical and logical machine while his emotions were stored deep down inside of him.

 _|Gamer's Mind Activated |_

Taking up the serrated knife once more, he locked it in his right hand with familiar movements. His arms positioned themselves in front of his chest in an armed guard while the spine of the blade (maybe five or six inches long) faced his body and it's butt end nearing where his weaponless fist guarded his chest. It's a basic stance for close combat.

When the monster is up and coming to tackle him once more, the boy's stance is balanced and measured, just as his calculating eyes are, and he lets it bolt towards him with his guard prepared. The monster reaches out. The boy notes it's a foot away from grabbing distance. Calculating that this is close enough in range, the boy slaps the monster's hand away with succinct precision and cuts through the air, hacking a slice on their face.

The attack pulls through and the enemy's left eye is cloaked in blood. The gash tore a diagonal line from their left eyebrow, over the bridge of the nose, and finished with a small nick on their right cheek. However, pain was not what the boy was aiming for, instead, it was to knock their face to one side and get it in position for a finishing blow. And just as planned, the monster snapped his head back to try and take a bite from his arm (sometimes risks are needed to be taken to win), and he swings back the blade, going in reverse with the point slicing its way back, and uses both hands to plunge it deep into the monster's eye socket. The bloody mouth is inches away from taking a chunk from the boy's wrist.

 _CRITICAL DAMAGE_

 _100_ _ **EXP**_ _(FIRST KILL)_

(100/100) **EXP to Lv** 1

 _| You've Leveled Up! Level now: Lv 1 |_

 _|You were given: 15 Mastery Points|_

 _Ding~_

 _| Quest Continuation |_

First Encounter

 _Find the phone: 1/1_

 _Kill the monster: 1/1_

 _?_

He scans the messages and stores the information in quick succession, swiping away the boxes to focus on the monster. The beast had been halted by the fatal blow to the brain, as all living things should be. He watched it slide off his blade and onto the floor in a heap and he flicked off the blood coating his knife with unconscious habit. Stoically, the boy stares down the monster, eyes narrowed in calculation. 'Observe.'

Unlike his expectations, nothing happens except silence. He stands in confusion, startled that the game system hadn't heard him think plainly.

'Observe,' he thinks once more, eyes narrowing with irritation.

Again, nothing happens.

Severely confused and annoyed by the lack of acknowledgment by the system, he grunts and gives up on that route of course.

However, even in his enhanced state, where nothing could make him flinch or disgruntled, he was startled by the suddenness of the body bursting apart with shattered light. The body's entirety dispersing and flying up towards Heaven like glass shards glittering against the sunlight.

He watched the event silently. Staring up at the ceiling from which the shards, almost digital in appearance, disappeared into.

He looked back down at the floor.

There was left nothing behind but the spilt blood.

Logistics shade his eyes with thought, and his brows furrowed and expression darkened. 'It disappeared… Perchance that means it is now truly dead,' He theories, and continues to stand there, completely turned around by the change of system.

[Observe] wasn't working. At least, not at the moment. Why? It has always been this way. You say or think it, and a box will appear and tell you, however blatantly, whatever IT is, no matter how plain an observation.

But it's not working.

As he stands with a shadowed gaze darkened by annoyance, fist clenching the bloodied knife, a flicker of movement ahead of him catches his attention. The woman's eyes flutter, staring up at the roof with a dazed gaze. He stares her down, consuming her actions with his probing eyes as he watches a monster awaken.

 _Ding~_

 _| Quest Continuation |_

First Encounter

 _Find the phone: 1/1_

 _Kill the monster: 1/1_

 _Round Two: Kill the monster: 0/1_

 _Optional: Kill it before it breaks free: 0/1_

 _| Time Left till the Monster Breaks free: 10 seconds... 9 second... |_

Unlike his other self without **[Gamer's Mind]** ,he does not hesitate to take advantage.

Pushing himself into a sprint and leaning forward dangerously, and rushes her, grabbing onto the tipped over stool in his motions, sprinkled in drops of blood. In quick succession, he places the stool in front of his quick pace, placing a bare foot onto it in the next millisecond, and jumps up at her with a knife aimed at her eye socket, eyes wide and shaded in apathetic calculation.

 _CRITICAL DAMAGE_

 _Squelch._ The blade slides through and hits the rim of the bone around her socket, accompanied with the violent shock of his body colliding with hers. He drops down into a messy crouch and nearly falls onto his arse before a hand shoots down to prop himself up. It lands in a pool of dark blood.

The monster dressed in her Sunday-best stills.

 _| Time Left till the Monster Breaks free: 5 seconds... |_

 _Ding~_

 _| Quest Continuation |_

First Encounter

 _Find the phone: 1/1_

 _Kill the monster:1/1_

 _Round Two: Kill the monster: 1/1_

 _Optional: Kill it before it breaks free: 1/1_

 _100_ _ **EXP**_

(100/200) **EXP to Lv** 2

He stands, drops of blood scattered over his pants and plaid shirt. Reaching up with his pathetic height, he slid the blade out of the swaying body and watched as it flickered away with the wind, leaving behind a noose that swayed without its burden.

Finding nothing else would be launching at him at the moment, he pushed **[Gamer's Mind]** back down to lower levels. Instantly, the tremors erupted inside of him. His body beginning to shiver erratically with confusion and fear.

'What _was_ that? _Monsters_? That's… that's never happened before... They were reaching out to bite me… How could a dead man do that?' His eyes flicker down to the knife in his hand and he finds he doesn't know what to say. 'They both gave out EXP and disappeared… that's never happened before…'

He picks his quivering stare off the weapon, goosebumps littering his skin, and finds that the house is silent once more. The birds chirp outside and the wind softly billows the curtains.

There are no more people to bury, he finds.

|v|

Surveying their land near the house, he'd found a wheelbarrow and was determined to build graves for them, even if their bodies were gone. He couldn't leave the boy's family to be unremembered, and though they weren't humans at that point, they used to be people and lived with a son. And now they've all passed away. It's only right to do at least _something_.

As the morning fell towards midday, he swiped a hand across his sweating brow and laid his eyes on the two large mounds of stones. Shoddy wooden crosses were stuck in their graves, tied together by hay bale strings. It wasn't perfect, but it's the thought that counts.

He took a sip from his water bottle, a fierce need to gulp it all down fogging his tired mind. However, he knew the only proper way to drink water and gain its subsistence was by slowly drinking it. Little sips the same amount as the bottle cap's volume. Studying science and anatomy made him aware of a lot of small things to help you survive, and he was always thankful he'd learned it.

But drinking so steadily, so slowly, in his state, was not possible.

 _+5 HP from the Water Bottle_

After a pause to relax, he bowed his head and closed his eyes, hands locking together in prayer. He keeps his thoughts to himself as he speaks to God, and when his eyes flutter back open theories erupt into his mind.

'Dead people being alive... or just turning into monsters,' he thinks inside of his mind, sitting down on the dried patches of grass. 'They were real people. This boy's past parents.' Not some random spawn of monsters.

'Monsters, is what the system called them... Meaning there's a chance they were never human, but that wouldn't make much sense... I'd rather think they were alive previously and something happened to them, and now they're… inhuman beings that eat other humans—also other monsters? (Cannibalism?)—attack humans, and do not bleed or feel pain.' That much was clear from the first encounter. The sliced throat should have stopped them—they should have bled out and died from that, but they didn't.

'Then the big question comes up,' he thinks to himself, 'Why hang themselves? Did they do it themselves, or someone else? "Monsters" sounds like there's only one type of this… either that, or I have such little information the System is hiding it from me, which is normal…'

'Why would the family do that?' He ponders, stroking his sore throat, the red rope line burning. 'What were they trying to save themselves from? Did they know what would happen to them? What they would turn into?'

 _Ding~_

| Quest Alert |

| A House of Three Turned One |

| _Investigate the causes of the family's joined suicide._ |

 _Investigate the kitchen 0/1_

 _Investigate the truck 0/1_

 _Investigate the bedrooms 0/1_

 _Optional:_

 _Investigate the Garage: 0/1_

 _Completion Award_ :

100 **EXP**

 _Optional Award_ :

A Durable Weapon

 _*Continuation Quest_

 **[ACCEPT] [REFUSE]**

He looks upon the quest that had appeared because of his current thoughts and taps the ACCEPT button without much thought. There was a large part of him that believed that something big was going on, and was further confirmed by the Continuation Quest that would come up after he solved this case.

There was something very big happening, and he needed to know what it was.

His feet, bare to the cold wooden floors, began to pad over towards the kitchen, the closest destination. But a sticky sensation halted him and had him lifting up his foot to examine it. Leaning against the wall for support, he grimaced as he saw the flakes of blood on his soles. He shivers as disgust rakes his stomach. Setting his foot down, he hobbled on one foot to the kitchen, looking for some type of napkin and water to clean it.

Finding towels is easy enough, but after that lone water bottle, that seems to be it. The tap isn't even working, just a fowl looking pool of liquid in the sink. Giving up on the water, he takes up a chair to sit on and cleans his feet and arms as best he can, wiping his face and discovering flecks of dried blood hidden there too. His stomach curls, squirming, but _Gamer's Body_ does not let him throw up, as he knew it wouldn't.

After a small clean up, just to get the grit from between his fingers and toes, he begins his investigation.

'It's completely barren,' he notes, opening the last cupboard to find nothing inside once more, besides things that a human can't eat safely. There's no food in the kitchen, and the fields are dried and decaying.

'This is a farm,' he thinks to himself with some confusion. 'Shouldn't their garden be a priority? It's in the middle of summer, or near it, and it's dried up. Why did they leave it to die when that could feed their hunger?'

He takes a glance out of the kitchen window facing the backyard, '...is there something in the soil? ...Or could they not be bothered anymore?'

Heavy in thought, he backs from the window and turns to face the rest of the kitchen. Surely, there must be a pantry somewhere.

Curiously checking inside all of the doors on the first floor, he finds a closet and reveals a dark room filled with empty shelves and a lone lightbulb hanging by a small metal chain. Empty grocery bags piled on the sides and crumbs scattered on the wooden planks. He looks upon it all with a somber gaze. If this it the pantry, there's nothing left.

He closes the door with a soft click. 'So they had definitely run out of food,' he surmounts easily enough. 'Whatever's happening here must have cut off the grocery market too, because they could have taken their car to get some, or gone over to the neighbors,' he imagines, his brows furrowed in thought. 'Does that mean the neighbors, and in turn, the whole town, was infested with this plague? (He calls it a plague just to give the strangeness a name). And do the monsters have something large to do with this too?'

 _Ding~_

| Quest Continuation |

| A House of Three Turned One |

| _Investigate the causes of the family's joined suicide._ |

 _Investigate the kitchen 1/1_

 _Investigate the bedrooms 0/1_

 _Investigate the truck 0/1_

 _Optional:_

 _Investigate the Garage: 0/1_

Shifting on his feet uneasily, he looks down to see his toes curl over the tiled floor, chilled in the shadows of the house.

...Maybe investigating the bedrooms will have to be second. Wearing these clothes that are stained a deep burgundy… it's nauseating.

Going past the bathroom, he approaches the first closed door at the end of the hallway. There isn't a color to it, just a glossed wooden sheen. No defining features as to note if it's anyone's specific room, but the quest wants him to investigate all rooms, so it won't bother him if it's the parent's room instead of the boy's.

With a click, he pushes the door open.

The room is a comfortable size with light brown walls and a dark paneled floor. All of the boy's belongings are strewn across the room in a chaotic, yet orderly, manner. Shelves screwed onto the wall are filled with books are varying size. The ground is spick and span, no clothes laying on the floor. Perhaps the family was very tidy in this fashion.

There are stuffed animals of dogs, rabbits, sheep, and one red crab (the last one is an amusing find. You don't see stuffed crabs everyday).

Opening the boy's dresser, he shrugs on his choice of clothing and looks into the mirror, coming face to face with someone unfamiliar but knowing he'll get used to it. He's draped in a long white shirt and it's actually quite regal looking as it flutters below his hips with a golden lining. The sleeves are wide and spacious and hang near the middle of his bicep. Knowing it's hot outside, he takes the boy's light brown capris filled with large pockets that are weighted heavily in material. It's unsurprising that all the boy has are bright colored clothing, they didn't seem like the type to wear something black or shaded. Perhaps that had something to do with the gleam in the boy's eyes.

Grabbing the boy's school bag that hung on a coat rack, he laments over the fact that the boy hadn't even finished school yet when this tragedy had occurred. He shuffles through it to see what grade they were in, just to get a feeling of how old this body was.

He finds out that their name was _Howl Atkinson_ , and they were (if the year was still 2010, as it says on the card) 14 years of age and going to school at Green Grove Baker Charter. The mascot was an mountain goat.

A familiar, heavy, guilt pinches at his chest from the sight, his fingers press onto the card.

Only just a child.

He places their things back inside of their school bag, hanging it up in mournful silence. After paying respects to the boy with his time and silence, he decides to take up their name to remember the boy and who he used to be. It only fits that a part of who had died here should come along with him.

| The System recognizes the acceptance of a name. |

 **[Player's Name: Howl Atkinson]**

Taking a deep breath and adjusting to the name, Howl Atkinson looks about the room in search for clues. Prying open the closet, he finds a large pack laying haphazardly inside. Crouching, he lifts the cloth lid to reveal a stuffed pack full of clothes and necessities. Toothbrush, comic books, socks, trousers, and everything else you would want to bring on a trip out of home.

It was very probable that Howl had only gone on a vacation and had ignored the act of putting away his means afterwards, as all children will attempt to do because of blatant laziness (he knew he was like that when he was young).

But this could also be evidence of their parents attempting to leave, and, since they're still here, either they decided against it… or something went wrong.

He stands up from his crouch and leaves the closet open, wanting to see if the parent's room will have any sort of clue he had missed.

Trudging down the hall and clicking open the next room showed him an ample bedroom with a king sized bed, a modern style with more of that cream colored wallpaper and large windows overlooking a very broad acreage.

Not even needing to look, two big duffle bags were tossed to the corner of the room, distinct against the cleanliness of the entire room.

Walking over, he flipped the cloth lids over to reveal the same things the child had. Filled, yet cast aside. It almost seemed as if the parents were incredibly agitated by leaving them here, as if putting them away was… difficult. Everything was so clean, except for those two haphazard bags. That should at least mean something.

Maybe it was too obvious, but nonetheless, they didn't have food, and the market didn't have any and so did their neighbors (either that, or they would like to have nothing to do with each other and let the other starve). Shouldn't it make sense to try and leave? Either to get help and bring them back, or go someplace that's more stable. Like their relatives or such. Far away.

How unprepared was this family that neither option was available to them? Or viable anymore? How overwhelmed were they? The answer his subconscious fear is imagining is intimidating.

 _Ding~_

| Quest Continuation |

| A House of Three Turned One |

| _Investigate the causes of the family's joined suicide._ |

 _Investigate the kitchen 1/1_

 _Investigate the bedrooms 1/1_

 _Investigate the truck 0/1_

 _Optional:_

 _Investigate the Garage: 0/1_

Exiting the house, he finds himself encased in a quiet land. A willow tree's branches swaying in the gently wind, patches of brown grass parched from the sun's intense rays, and no sign of life besides the twitter of birds and squirrels.

A gravel path leads him to an old and tough looking diesel truck, white paint chipping off with large, muddy, tires. But before he goes to investigate the truck, he moves to the right and opens up the wooden garage door, the rust on the hinges creaking loudly as he pushes it aside, sliding a rock to hold the door open for the light to shine through.

It's usually best to complete the optional bits of the quest first, he finds. Else, the quest will close on you without your permission and you'll be unable to get the optional bonuses.

The small shack was dark and dusty, one window coated in spider webs and dust leaving the room shadowed and abandoned, but as he looked upon all the tools littering the walls he couldn't imagine such a place to be unused on a farm. It was a man's hovel, in a sense. Just without guns or a beer fridge.

Hugging the wall to the shack he'd poked his head into, was a workbench. Dust and shards of wood from previous workings scattered about on top of it. Tools of all kinds: screws, hammers, tape, nails, and all that would be a normal sight in a farm work shed was inside. Howl looked upon all of it, searching for something to pop out to him.

Then he spots a wood chopping axe propped on the side of the wall. A sturdy tool, but most likely too heavy for his small self. He has a feeling that even if he picked it up and took it with him, it would be more of a burden then anything else.

But then he pauses, his eyes flicking back towards the axe with curiosity. Something felt wrong about that statement, an ingrained memory of something he was able to do…

He backpedals in this thoughts, pondering as to why he has that feeling with a tilted head. 'It's been so long since I've been forced to use any of my abilities. Too long in hiding amongst people. Perhaps it would be beneficial to look at my **[Menu]** to re-jog my memory.'

As Howl thinks of the word, unintentionally, and a screen is brought up into his face, making him fumble back in surprise.

 _Ding~_

 _[Status]_

 _[Mastery]_

 _[Skills]_

 _[Inventory]_

 _[Quest Log]_

 _[Titles]_

 _[Perks]_

 _[Party Options] {unlocks at Lv 10}_

Howl skims over the links with interest but inevitably decides to go into the Inventory. A familiar 6x6 row of boxes appears in front of his eyes. He smiles softly at his mistake. Having to always carry things around like a normal person would had eventually changed him—soon, the Inventory system had nearly been forgotten and a backpack had dragged down his shoulders ever since.

With a bit of difficulty, Howl hefts the axe up and into his inventory, a subdued flash erupting from where the axe head touched the System. It's out of his hands in the next moment, as if he'd never had it in the first place, residing inside and taking up one slot of his numerous inventory slots.

 _Ding~_

| Quest Continuation |

| A House of Three Turned One |

| _Investigate the causes of the family's joined suicide._ |

 _Investigate the kitchen 1/1_

 _Investigate the truck 0/1_

 _Investigate the bedrooms 1/1_

 _Optional (COMPLETED):_

 _Investigate the Garage: 1/1_

A Durable Weapon (GAINED)

As much as he'd like to take time to investigate the changes of the System, it wasn't important in this moment, and just felt off to do such a thing at the moment.

With the fact of the reason he was outside right now residing in his mind, Howl shuts the garage door, sliding the latch to lock it just on instinct. There's a dark moment where he wonders if it even matters anymore.

Rubbing his weary forehead, he turns away from the shack and catches the truck in his sight. 'The last piece,' he thinks to himself, hesitating a pause, but taking that first step forwards. 'Would I find anything that I didn't already know? Something new? Would this all make sense?'

From just one quest, in a chain of follow ups, really, he shouldn't expect much.

The windows were rolled down, meaning they'd believed their urban area to be safe (was that still applicable now?), or they were possibly uncaring about it (which, in light of the theories he has, makes sense) and so he pries up the lock for the door through the open window, reaching over and inside. Popping the door open with a rustic " _clank,"_ his small self hefts himself up with the truck's metal step, plopping down on the dark gray leather seats.He slides and realizes that leather doesn't really have grip. Must have made bumby trips interesting.

Eyeing the inside, no litter was evident, but plenty of bungee and electrical cords hanging from the back, obscuring some of the back window. Cords used to charge a car and such (those could be useful later on). He turned around and looked into the tail end, but nothing was resting inside but dark bark-chips, twigs, and pine cones from the fir tree towering over the truck.

Facing the front once more, he leans over the steering wheel to catch the gas tank meter. He taps on it, but it stays at half full. 'Huh,' he hums in his mind, leaning back onto the leather seats. 'There should be enough in here to get very far away, but they didn't take it...' Then a sudden thought comes into his mind, advancing his theory. 'Or maybe they _did._ '

This could be supported by the fact that there was no gun inside the house. They had hung themselves, instead of taking an easier way out, so that could mean they had left it somewhere? Unable to get it back?

Almost as if they'd ran out of food (their field isn't safe, the market wasn't giving—nor their neighbors), they'd packed up and geared for a trip to wherever, and were stopped, forced to come back (The plague? A spore in the plants? The monsters? Something else?)

(Or maybe they were a pacifists family and hadn't wanted to use guns. However, they live on a farm, and coyotes and foxes will kill livestock if precautions aren't taken. But that's an iffy contrast.)

Whatever really happened, Howl has a pretty good understanding that the outside world isn't safe, and may run into trouble leaving this base.

 _Ding~_

| Quest Continuation |

| A House of Three Turned One |

| _Investigate the causes of the family's joined suicide_ |

 _(COMPLETED)_

 _Investigate the kitchen 1/1_

 _Investigate the truck 1/1_

 _Investigate the bedrooms 1/1_

 _Optional (COMPLETED):_

Investigate the Garage: 1/1

A Durable Weapon (GAINED)

100 **EXP**

(200/200) **EXP to Lv** 2

 _| You've Leveled Up! Level now: Lv 2 |  
|You are given: 15 Mastery Points|_

(0/400) **EXP to Lv** 3

Before Howl can scan the entire illuminating box, the Continuation Quest pops up with an interesting, yet eerie, deep burgundy color with white letters.

 _Ding~_

| Quest Continuation |

| Reactant and Product |

| _Investigate the reaction of the disease against the town. |_

 _Go to Hall Mark's (town) and find out the level of severity of the change in the town._

 _Completion Award_ :

150 **EXP**

 _*Continuation Quest_

 **[ACCEPT] [REFUSE]**

Howl backpedals, wincing at the System's wording. "Level of severity" sounds like a really bad hint to how the area has dealt with this. But it could also mean it's not as severe ('level of') as he thinks, and maybe this family was the only unfortunate one, but it could also be potentially very bad.

'I'll need to start training,' Howl realizes with solemn determination. 'This place seems the safest to stay at for the moment, but even if this body doesn't need food I will need food to deceive anyone I meet. It might come off like I'm starving myself.'

'However,' he thinks to himself, getting out from the truck and gently shutting it, 'I don't know if this System works the same way… [Observe] didn't work, and from all this exploring and analyzing, I haven't gained a single INT or WIS level up due to my connections or theories—which is incredibly strange, especially in the early ages of leveling.'

The sun, angled just past overhead, outlines his young face as he turns his gaze about, surveying the area. '...I should find an open area to start, where I can keep track of all directions, and start reading the [Menu]. Then get into training, if that's going to work the same.' He has a feeling things will be very different.

|V|

Howl sets himself up near the graves, the rocks stacked with a small, wooden, cross for both. It's obvious that these graves were made for a family that couldn't be physically buried.

The willow tree hangs over the graves, keeping them away from the sun's brilliance. Howl looks upon the scene with silent mourning, but knows being near such reality will keep him from doing anything stupid for the moment. It's time to focus, and prepare.

With a large intake of breath, and letting it out, he sits himself down on the wooden swing attached to one of the willow's limbs, attached by thick, familiar, ropes, and lets himself be swayed by the gentle breeze.

'Let's see what's so different,' he thinks to himself. 'Then we'll work on training.'

'[Menu].'

 _Ding~_

[Status]  
[Mastery]  
[Skills]  
[Inventory]  
[Quest Log]  
[Titles]  
[Perks]  
[Party Options] {unlocks at Lv 10} 

'Let's go down the list…' Howl thinks, eyeing the blue box in front of his eyes.

'[Status].'

 _Ding~_

Name: Howl Atkinson

Class: The Gamer

Title: Orphan

Level: 2

EXP: 0/400

HP: 100/100 {100 regain p/h}

MP: n/a

 **REGISTRATION for SKILLS**

[Strength] 5  
[Perception] 5  
[Endurance] 5  
[Charisma] 5  
[Intelligence]5  
[Agility] 5  
[Luck] 5

 **|Skill Points Available to Disperse: 5|**

 **[RESET] [ACCEPT]**

 ***Once accepted, you cannot advance these Skills in the future.**

M Points: 50

Money: $00.00

It all seems normal until the skills. 'What?' Howl thinks with surprise lifting his eyebrow, 'I can't change my skills afterwards? When did that happen? That's how it's always been. He levels up, gains points, and adds them to his current Stat Points, making them better and bigger. How is it different now? How will the System Level him up? Will Leveling even be as important anymore?

From just one look, it almost seems like the System is undermining him. Giving him less. There's a chill down his spine at the implication of such drastic change. Especially in a world so unknown and dangerous like this one.

Moving away from his stressed thoughts, he looked at his body's current Stats. Nothing more than basic in the athletic branch, probably due to working on the farm, but Intelligence, Charisma, and Perception are very good—but in this environment, how good would they be?

However, there's the big question—is it safe to apply the skills now when he has no clue of how the outside world is doing? What if the monster problem is only here? In this area? And he's on the outskirts of a whole civilization that has gotten away and evolved from it. Built cities to get away. It's a stretch, but the question makes him hesitate.

He should wait until he knows for sure things aren't going to be okay, because that will impact his dispersion immensely. 

Tabbing out of the status box, he pokes [Mastery].

 _Ding~_

 **| Mastery |**

 **[Athletics]** | 0 **[Burglary]** | 0

 **[Contacts]** | 0 **[Crafts]** | 0

 **[Deceive]** | 0 **[Drive]** | 0

 **[Empathy]** | 0 **[Fight]** | 0

 **[Investigate]** | 0 **[Notice]** | 0

 **[Physique]** | 0 **[Provoke]** | 0

 **[Rapport]** | 0 **[Resources]** | 0

 **[Scholar]** | 0 **[Shoot]** | 0

 **[Stealth]** | 0 **[Will]** | 0

| **M Points Available: 30** |

| **You gain 15 M points per Level up**. **The Max level is 100 for a Mastery.** |

Well, that is a lot of possible Masterys he could invest in. 18 if he's counting right. This is a lot more different. Where were the Skills? What's a Mastery, and what happened to the old style? What was wrong with it? Out of date? Not good enough? Not that he minded the change, but he just didn't know why.

Perhaps taking the Tutorial would be best here.

' **[Mastery Tutorial]**.'

Ding~

 **|This is a succinct tutorial on Masterys.|**

| **You will learn**... |

 ***What M. Points are.**

 ***What M. Points do.**

 ***How Base States affect your Masterys.**

 **|Mastery Points are awards given to the Gamer from Leveling Up|**

 **|You use M Points to increase your Perfection in that area.|**

 **|Each point put into a Category is a 1% added towards Completion, or otherwise Perfection or Mastery. 10% will show obvious advancement.|**

 **|Example: You've placed** 50 M **Points into** Scholar **. You are now 50% closer to mastering all Academics and Knowledge based quests/activities and now have more options on how to use your Knowledge-based Skills to your advantage.|**

 **|Once you reach 1oo% in a Mastery, you will be able to do anything viable to that Mastery category.|**

 **|example: 100% Scholar—there is no problem you cannot solve. Calculations are instinct, all memory and knowledge at your fingertips.|**

He chokes on his spit. 'Perfection? But if the bar is set at 100%, and I'm given 15 M Points each time… I'll be able to get to 100 in only 8 levels if I'm consistent…'

 **|Your Base Stats have already given you advantage in specific Masterys. But essentially,(High Int means more M Points distributed and bonuses to Intelligence checks. High Charisma is bonus to each speech check, High Agility gives bonus to Fight and Athletic and such.) the more points in that specific Stat, the easier and more powerful that Mastery category begins. If great enough bonuses, it is possible to get over 100% Mastery in one area.|**

'... I should probably test this out to completely understand. It's a little confusing, but it's so… new.' A small smile perks his cheeks, a flutter of interest bouncing his heart.

| **If your Skill Category Lvl is raised to** 20, 40, 60, 80, 100.|

| **You will gain [Perks] based off of that Mastery tree.** |

 **(Perks have their own Tutorial. If you want to learn more, say "[Perk] Tutorial.")**

He'll pass up on that tutorial, he already knows what they are and what they do, but he'll look at the new ones of course.

 **| All the questions have been answered. |**

| **Generating Summary…** |

 _Ding~_

 **What M. Points are:**

 **Answer:** They are single percentages of mastery that are gifted when lvling up. You may distribute them to your own digression.

 **What do M. Points do:**

 **Answer:** You apply them to your chosen Mastery (example: Fight) and use them to improve your level of perfection with anything related to Fighting. Form, skill, and mindset of the fighter.

 **How Base States affect your Masterys:**

 **Answer:** It allows your level of mastery to help you grow stronger in that area in a whole, entirety, sense, while also giving you new ideas on how to use the Mastery fully and more so.

It allows that designated Skill for that Mastery to: enhance old Skills, make more Skills, and give Perks.

 **How this accompanies and enhances your Base Stats:**

 **Answer** : Your base stats help enhance your mastery of the Mastery, pushing your perfection percentage higher than 100% and giving bonuses to specific category checks.

Howl hummed in thought, gently swinging on the tree's swing. There wasn't much else that it hadn't spoken of, it was pretty self-explanatory, now that he thought about it. He would be able to understand better after he uses it, he's sure.

He won't be choosing anything yet, since he's unsure of the state of the world (what a strange thing to think), but reading each of their uses would be beneficial—although, some are obvious in their intent.

Howl pulls up Masterys once more, the flat of his dainty forefinger pushing the box associated.

 _Ding~_

 **| Mastery |**

 **[Athletics]** | 0 **[Burglary]** | 0

 **[Contacts]** | 0 **[Crafts]** | 0

 **[Deceive]** | 0 **[Drive]** | 0

 **[Empathy]** | 0 **[Fight]** | 0

 **[Investigate]** | 0 **[Notice]** | 0

 **[Physique]** | 0 **[Provoke]** | 0

 **[Rapport]** | 0 **[Resources]** | 0

 **[Scholar]** | 0 **[Shoot]** | 0

 **[Stealth]** | 0 **[Will]** | 0

| M **Points Available: 30** |

Naturally, he has a very high Charisma, Intelligence, and Perception in his body's Base Stats. If he'll be seeing bonuses to those, whether or not he advances them more, it will be smart to review what those Masterys entail.

Tapping on the Empathycategory, it tells him, _"involves knowing and being able to spot changes in a person's mood or bearing."_ Which makes sense for the title given. So, this will most likely have all Charismatic skills associated with it. Maybe bartering, speech checks, and maybe quick-time investigations on the person's mental state.

The description continues, _"...able to read a person's emotional state and get a general sense of who they are, how they're feeling, and such._

 _"...able to_ _defend against Deceptive actions, allowing the user to pierce through lies and see through to someone's true intent. ...defend against those creating social advantages against you."_

'That's what I was imagining it would do,' he thinks to himself with no surprise. Blue eyes consume the words with patient intent.

After reading down the list, clicking on each one as to identify their uses, he comes to a conclusion of each of their purposes.

'Athletics' is all about how good you are at moving your body. Can you run faster than you ever have before and keep up? Jumping, running, climbing, swimming, etc. It's not about Stamina, but about how well your body keeps up with what you want.

'Burglary' is essentially stealth. Giving you ideas of how to lie around detection, as well as find ways into places that are off-limits.

'Contact' is a networking feat, where the main objective is the skill of knowing people, making connections, and keeping those connections solid.

'Crafts' is the name. Using your intelligence to put things together for your advantage. And then, eventually, learn to

'Deceive;' Lying and misdirection.

'Drive' was a peculiar one. It's about operating vehicles and things that go fast. So, perhaps if he takes enough of this one, he will have knowledge of all vehicles. Not quite useful at the moment.

'Fight' is close combat. Learning to use your fists and weapons. Shoot is the counterpart.

'Investigate' revolves around concentrated effort and in-depth scrutiny. It's counterpart is Notice.

'Notice' is the character's overall perception, ability to pick out details at a glance, and other powers of observation. It's [Observe] in disguise.

'Physique' is raw strength and endurance. Being able to bend metal in half with just your muscles, and overcome a human's physical limitations.

'Provoke' is the skill about getting someone's dander up and eliciting negative emotional response from them—fear, anger, shame, etc. It's the "being a jerk" skill.

'Rapport' is all about making positive connections to people and eliciting positive emotion. It's the skill of being liked and trusted.

'Resources' is the character's general level of material wealth in the game world and ability to apply it.

'Scholar' is about knowledge and education.

'Shoot' is the skill of using ranged weaponry, either in a conflict or on targets that don't actively resist your attempts to shoot them.

'Stealth' skill allows you to avoid detection, both when hiding in place and trying to move about unseen. It pairs well with the Burglary skill.

'Will' is the character's general level of mental fortitude, the same way that Physique represents your physical fortitude. Like puzzles and riddles.

Each sounds useful, but different.

He can clearly see which ones interested him, and how he usually played. However, it's very general. Will the Shoot mastery open up into smaller skills? Small guns, heavy guns, far-ranged… or will it be one thing?

If that's the case… he'd be a master all of these so quickly…

In less than 2 years, at most. And that may be pushing it.

But then he's brought back, a niggling feeling on the back of his skull. 'But, the things that have been giving me EXP only when killing monsters or completing quests, at least, so far… surely those are not the only way, right?'

Pulling a worried face, he opens up a small EXP Tutorial, and finds his answer quickly enough.

|EXP will be given to the Gamer due to:

|1) Completing Quests, 2) Killing mobs, 3) Advancing Friendship score of non-NPC characters|

Howl looks upon the last point, and squints.

'I've never heard of that before,' he thinks to himself, but just can't continue on. There's been so much change in one day, and he really can't focus on it anymore. He needs to fall back on an old habit.

He gets up off the swing, holding the rope to not let it come back to hit him. 'Well, know I know training won't help me… a shame,' he muses, a sober expression falling onto his face, 'I enjoyed those…'

But then he shakes his head, his light brown hair circling over his large blue eyes, and tries to get rid of the negative thoughts. 'I shouldn't think of the past. What's done is done.'

It was hard, at first, with the changes. But he had to move on. It was slowly killing his mind, plaguing it with memories. Memories of things he could never have ever again.

So there was a rule put into place.

When you wake up, you push the memories away and forget. Forget as much as you can. Forget your own name. Forget to thrive. To live without burden.

(It's so hard- he hears voices inside of his head and he can't remember who they are, yet they cry and he just watches in his dreams. In his nightmares.)

Dusting the back of his pants, he looks upon the graves. Silent and contemplative.

This world is entirely different.

There's just so much he doesn't know, especially since he wasn't able to [Observe] the first two monsters to see their true nature. Since he didn't know how to.

But now is the time to gather resources. Take everything this farm has for him and leave. Find civilization. Complete the quests.

But, just as he had shifted to move back towards the small tool shack, intending to plunder it empty, he wonders if there's one more grave that should be made...

END OF CHAPTER


End file.
